THE Pixies, in the superstition of Devonshire, are a race of beings invisibly small, and harmless or friendly to man. At a small distance from a village in that county, half way up a woodcovered hill, is an excavation called the Pixies' Parlour. The roots of old trees form its ceiling; and on its sides are innumerable cyphers, among which the author discovered his own cypher and those of his brothers, cut by the hand of their childhood. At the foot of the hill flows the river Otter. To this place the Author, during the summer months of the year 1793, conducted a party of young ladies; one of whom, of stature elegantly small, and of complexion colourless yet clear, was proclaimed the Faery Queen. On which occasion the following Irregular Ode was written. II 21 ΙΟ When fades the moon all shadowy-pale, song. III 20 But not our filmy pinion Flashes the fervid ray. Round them their mantle green the ivies bind, Beneath whose foliage pale 30 We listen to the enamoured rustic's talk; Heave with the heavings of the maiden's breast, Where young-eyed Loves have built their turtle nest; Or guide of soul-subduing power The sombre hours, that round thee stand With down-cast eyes (a duteous band!) Their dark robes dripping with the heavy dew. Sorceress of the ebon throne! Thy power the Pixies own, 80 And clouds in watery colours drest Float in light drapery o'er thy sable vest : What time the pale moon sheds a softer day Mellowing the woods beneath its pensive beam : For mid the quivering light 'tis ours to play, The electric flash, that from the melting Aye dancing to the cadence of the stream. Or where, his silver waters smoothed to rest, Unboastful Maid! though now the Lily pale Transparent grace thy beauties meek; Yet ere again along the impurpling vale, The tall tree's shadow sleeps upon his The purpling vale and elfin-haunted grove, breast. VII Hence thou lingerer, Light! Eve saddens into Night. Mother of wildly-working dreams! we view Young Zephyr his fresh flowers profusely throws, We'll tinge with livelier hues thy cheek; And, haply, from the nectar-breathing Rose Extract a Blush for Love! 1793. I skimmed the smooth thin stone along With infant uproar and soul-soothing pranks, thy breast, Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep Released from school, their little hearts imprest at rest, Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that Launch paper navies on thy waveless mine eyes I never shut amid the sunny ray, But straight with all their tints thy breast. The rustic here at eve with pensive look Whistling lorn ditties leans upon his crook, waters rise, Thy crossing plank, thy marge with Or, starting, pauses with hope-mingled dread willows grey, And bedded sand that veined with various To list the much-loved maid's accustomed tread: dyes Gleamed through thy bright transparence! She, vainly mindful of her dame's On my way, Visions of Childhood! oft have ye beguiled Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs: Ah! that once more I were a careless ? 1793. Child! command, Loiters, the long-fill'd pitcher in her hand. Unboastful Stream! thy fount with pebbled falls The faded form of past delight recalls, O THOU wild Fancy, check thy wing! Those thin white flakes, those purple Nor there with happy spirits speed thy flight Bathed in rich amber-glowing floods of light; Nor in yon gleam, where slow descends She meets my lonely path in moon-beams the day, clad. With western peasants hail the morning With her along the streamlet's brink I ray! rove; Ah! rather bid the perished pleasures With her I list the warblings of the grove; move, A shadowy train, across the soul of And seems in each low wind her voice She leapt, awakened by the pattering shower. Now sheds the sinking Sun a deeper gleam, note! Spirits of Love! ye heard her name! The powerful spell, and to my haunt Whether on clustering pinions ye are there, Aid, lovely Sorceress! aid thy Poet's Where rich snows blossom on the Myrtle dream! With faery wand O bid the Maid arise, Chaste Joyance dancing in her brightblue eyes; As erst when from the Muses' calm abode I came, with Learning's meed not unbestowed; When as she twined a laurel round my And met my kiss, and half returned my 20 O'er all my frame shot rapid my thrilled heart, And every nerve confessed the electric dart. O dear Deceit! I see the Maiden rise, blue eyes! When first the lark high-soaring swells Love lights her smile-in Joy's red |
